


show you my teeth

by CapriciousCrab



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Arguing, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: Sometimes his anxiety is a vicious thing...





	show you my teeth

He senses it before he can even open his eyes. There's a hollow clawing in his gut and a leaden feeling of simmering panic that fills him with dread. The palms of his hands are already clammy, and as he wakes to further awareness he can feel the tension ratcheting his muscles into painful knots.

Phil opens his eyes and turns his head towards the table, fumbling for his phone as he squints at the overly bright sunshine streaming through the gap in the curtains. Those cheerful beams of golden light feel like an attack, driving themselves into his brain like an ice pick battering through the delicate folds of his brain and he tugs the corner of the duvet up over his face in helpless defense.

He rolls onto his side and shoves his face into his pillow, desperate to block out the light. The usually soft linens feel rough and coarse against his hypersensitive skin, and when Dan moves closer and tucks himself up along Phil's back he nearly jumps from the bed. He grits his teeth and tries to breathe through it, counting back from ten the way he had been taught when Dan exhales softly onto the back of his neck in his sleep. It makes Phil's skin crawl, and he can't help the full-body shudder that sweeps over him.

God, he hates this. He hates waking up with this ever-present anxiety bubbling like lava in his gut, just waiting to spill out over everything in his life and burn it to ash. Gently edging away from Dan to slip silently from the bed, Phil heads for the shower and the fragile illusion of comfort to be found beneath the pulsing drumbeat of hot water.

*

He's standing at the counter making a cup of coffee when Dan comes looking for him. Phil can hear him yawning as he crosses the floor, his slippers shuffling and scuffing across the kitchen tiles. Phil's reaching up for another mug when Dan wraps his arms around Phil's waist, pulling him into a hug. 

"mmm, g'morning."

Dan's voice is a sleepy rasp in Phil's ear and his face is warm where he tucks it against the bare skin of Phil's neck. He shivers as Dan presses a kiss there and waits for the familiar feeling of comfort to sweep over him. Despairing when it doesn't.

Phil takes his coffee to the table and watches as Dan gathers his breakfast; his favorite cereal with a few berries tossed in. Phil’s stomach roils at the thought of eating, so he shakes his head when Dan holds up another bowl in question. He can feel the beginning of headache brewing, a telltale pressure growing behind his right eye that reminds him that while he might be able to fool Dan into thinking everything's fine, he can't trick his body. But then he notices the appraising look Dan is giving him, and Phil's already tense stomach clenches a little tighter. Maybe he hasn't been able to fool Dan after all.

He looks down into his coffee. He always hates talking about his anxiety but even more so on days like this; when he feels edgy and irritated and ready to vibrate out of his skin. Ugly and mean, these feelings terrify him so he feigns interest in the pigeons gathered out on the patio and resolutely avoids looking into Dan’s eyes. 

_ Please stay quiet, _ Phil thinks desperately. _ I’m not in control right now, and I can’t, I can't- _

“Phil?”

“Hmm?” 

“Are you feeling alright?” Dan asks.

Phil reluctantly looks over and feels even worse than before. Dan’s face is soft, his eyes scanning Phil’s face for signs of pain or illness, and his obvious concern adds a pinch of guilt to the toxic stew of emotions churning inside him.

He attempts a smile and can tell by the look on Dan’s face that he failed, so he sighs and gives up. “I have a bit of a headache.”

It’s not the whole truth but it’s also not a lie since he does have a headache. 

“Do you need some ibuprofen? I can get you your tablets?”

“It’s fine, Dan. I took some this morning.”

“Are you sure? I know how you are about this shit.”

The words combined with the look of disbelief on Dan’s face pisses him off. “I’m not a child, Dan. I said I was fine,” Phil says testily. 

"Alright, grumpy! Jesus." 

Dan frowns and looks away from Phil, eating with an exaggerated air of indifference. He's ignoring Phil with a calculated deliberateness, his face kept studiously turned away, and on a normal day, it would make Phil laugh, breaking the tension between them.

But it's not a normal day and Phil can't find the humor in it. It feels like there's a band around his chest that's being winched tight, restricting his ability to inhale deep and breath out this irrational irritability. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath, trying desperately to get a hold of his fraying emotions only to have them fly open at the sound of Dan's teeth scraping against his spoon.

"Do you have to chew so goddamn loud?" Phil snaps.

Dan scowls and lets his mouth fall open as he crunches his cereal obnoxiously, glaring at Phil defiantly as he shovels another spoonful between his lips. Milk dribbles down his chin to spatter onto the table, and the childish display has Phil shoving back from the table with an angry jerk.

“Oh, that’s lovely, Dan. Thank you so _ very _much for your maturity this morning.” Phil spits over his shoulder as he stalks from the kitchen. He paces into the lounge and circles the room, his stride twitchy and stiff. He just needs a minute, just one minute to breathe and not fall apart and not take his shit out on Dan…

But the sound of Dan’s bowl clattering into the sink tells him he’s not going to get that minute and for a moment he’s frozen in place, listening to the sound of Dan’s heavy footsteps following him into the room. He doesn’t even have time to draw in a breath before Dan’s in front of him, blocking his way.

He’s pissed. Dan’s hair is a messy tousle of frizzy waves that he’s pushed back from his face and his eyebrows are drawn down into a heavy frown that matches the scowl on his mouth. His face is flushed, his rosy patch a vibrant red, and his angry eyes are searching Phil’s face for answers.

_ Please stay quiet, _ he begs silently. _ Just stay quiet and maybe this will all go away. _

But now the words are for himself.

“What the fuck, Phil? What the hell is wrong with you this morning?” Dan demands.

The band around Phil’s chest grows tighter, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs. He shakes his head and moves around Dan, heading for their room to escape. He just needs to be alone for a minute, but Dan is quick to chase after him.

“Phil! I’m trying to talk to you!” Dan’s hand is on Phil’s arm, yanking him to a stop and suddenly the terrifying volcano of rage inside him erupts.

“Would you leave me the hell alone? Quit following me, quit harassing me and fucking go _ do _something!” Phil shouts. “Film a video if you can remember how.”

He regrets the words even as they fall from his lips, and he watches a flash of hurt move over Dan’s face before it falls carefully blank. Dan takes a deep breath, then another as he steps back and away from where Phil is standing paralyzed with shock at his own outburst.

“I think you need to go take a walk.” Dan’s voice is tight and ice-cold. “Don’t come back until you’re done being a prick.”

Phil watches helplessly as Dan turns and walks away into the bedroom. The click of the lock echoed through the empty hall and suddenly the constriction around Phil’s chest breaks. His breath is backing up into his throat and his hands shake as he lets himself out of the flat, only to stop on the other side of the threshold. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket, his trembling fingers barely able to hold it still enough to dial the number. He tries to steady his breathing, but the familiar voice on the other end of the line has it escaping on a choked gasp.

“Mar? Mar, I need you…”

*

Phil hunches over his coffee cup as he stirs in a dollop of cream. As much as he’d like to, he can’t avoid Martyn’s questioning gaze forever and flinches a bit when Martyn clears his throat, finally dragging his eyes up to meet his.

"Little brother, is everything alright?” 

Phil had been a right mess by the time Martyn had come around to pick him up, all tears and panic and disjointed, incoherent sentences. He’d cried it out in the car with Martyn rubbing soothing circles over his back until the worst of it had passed and he’d felt a bit more in control of himself. In desperate need of coffee, they’d come to the little coffee shop that Cornelia fancies when she’s on this side of town and sat down with their coffees and a plate of pastries to share.

Phil sighs and picks at his scone, crumbling it into pieces with fingers that still shake lightly. “Maybe? I don’t know, Mar. I don’t know how I feel, to be honest.”

He pops a piece of pastry into his mouth and does his best to chew and swallow. It feels like dust in his mouth and his stomach aches with tension, but he knows he’ll feel even worse if he doesn’t get something into his system.

Martyn takes a sip of his coffee and studies Phil’s face over the rim of his mug, his eyes steady and appraising. “I haven’t seen you like that since before the tour when everything was going to shit.”

Phil hums noncommittally and continues chewing. They’ve already talked about that ages ago, and he doesn't want to revisit it today.

“So what happened, Phil?”

“I was a dick.”

Martyn shoots him a look and waves his hand imperiously, a ‘go ahead, continue’ type of gesture that makes Phil give a watery chuckle, some of the painful tension easing from his muscles. 

"I was a dick, though. Lately, I’ve been waking up feeling like something terrible is just waiting to happen. Things have felt so weird since we've been back from Vegas and I don't know." He shrugs and scrubs his hands over his face. "I just freaked out and snapped. Took it out on Dan and said some pretty nasty things to him."

He curled his fingers around the sides of his mug and let the heat radiating from the stoneware warm his chilly hands. It's comforting and familiar, and it helps smooth over some of the ragged edges left behind by his panic attack.

"That's not like you. What is it that feels weird?" Martyn's voice is muffled as he speaks around a mouthful of apple turnover. He's got flaky crumbs spilled down over the front of his shirt, he's still wearing that stupid bucket hat that he brought on vacation, and Phil's suddenly filled with a rush of affection for the idiot sitting across from him dribbling coffee down his chin.

He shakes his head and tosses Martyn a napkin. "You're such a slob. What does Cornelia even see in you?"

Martyn shrugs and swipes at his face. "Must be the Lester charm. It makes us irresistible." He set his napkin aside and leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh. "What's going on in that head of yours, Phil?"

"I just- I think maybe I'm scared?" It's hard for him to admit, and he can't bring himself to look at Martyn when he says it, staring down into his coffee instead. "Everything is shifting, and I can't seem to find my footing."

Martyn frowns. "Is this because of the video? Because you swore you were ready-"

"It's not the video, Martyn" Phil interrupts gently. "It's the future stuff that runs through my head at night. Where do I go from here, what do I do now? Like, Dan has projects lined up and they're such _ good _things. He's finding himself and I'm so damn proud of him I could burst. It's just- "

He takes a sip of coffee before continuing, placing the mug on the table. "I have ideas: my script and other things I'm still working on. But if they don't work out, then what? I'm afraid that this is all I'll ever be- just another aging Youtuber with a fading career."

"Have you talked to Dan about any of this?" Martyn asks. He raises an eyebrow at Phil's answering silence before rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Phil!"

"What? What would you have me say to him, Martyn?" Phil demands defensively. "How can I possibly bring this up without sounding bitter and jealous? '_ Hey Dan, can you not be so handsome and likable and good at everything? You make me feel like a failure by comparison' _."

"That has to be better than being a dick to him for no reason," Martyn shoots back. 

Phil opens his mouth to snap back but feels his phone vibrate against his leg. His pulse quickens as he digs it out of his pocket and he takes a deep breath when he sees the message from Dan. 

_ D- r u ok? _

_ P-yeah _

_ D- where r u? _

_ P- coffee with M _

_ P- be home soon _

_ P- i'm sorry _

He waits for a reply and sighs when it doesn't come. He doesn't blame Dan for being angry but the thought of having another argument when he gets home makes him feel queasy.

"Was that Dan?"

Phil sighs and pockets his phone. "Yeah. He's still pissed at me." 

"You need to talk to him, Phil."

"I know. I was hoping these feelings would just… go away." Phil says sadly. He rubs his fingers together absentmindedly, a nervous habit from childhood that he just can't seem to rid himself of. "I didn't want to burden him with my mess, you know?"

Martyn gives him a gentle kick under the table to get his attention and waits until Phil raises his head before speaking. "You can't shield him from everything, Phil. That's not fair to you or Dan."

"I know," Phil says on an exhale, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Then go home, stupid. Bring him some flowers and apologize for being a dick. And then fucking talk to him."

"Does that work with Corn?" Phil asks with a weak smile.

Martyn grins and smashes his hat lower on his head. "She's still here, isn't she? C'mon, I'll drop you off."

*

He brings home flowers. Pink and white with bits of greenery tucked inside, he clutches the little bundle in a sweaty hand as he opens the door to the flat. He leaves his shoes by the door and makes his way up the stairs, his stomach twisting once more with nerves.

Anxious. He's always so fucking anxious.

"Dan?"

"In the lounge," Dan calls back. He doesn't exactly sound welcoming but the cold anger from this morning seems to have thawed some. 

Phil pauses at the threshold of the room and takes in the sight of Dan sprawled on the sofa, his long legs stretched out over the cushions. A cup of tea sits within reach and some home reno program drones softly on the television while Dan answers emails on his laptop. He hasn't said anything else, just continues tapping away at his keyboard, so Phil takes a chance and moves closer. He doesn't ask Dan to move, just sits on the floor with his back against the couch and holds up the flowers as a peace offering.

"These are for you," Phil says quietly. "I don't remember the names but they're pretty and smell nice and they made me think of you."

He watches the blank expression on Dan's face change as he reaches out for the flowers Phil had brought him, bringing them up to his nose to inhale the sweet fragrance. Dan's face is like a book to him; a beautiful novel that Phil has learned to read in the decade that they've been together, and the relaxing brows and soft mouth are familiar signs that Dan's ready to forgive him. But he deserves more than just a token apology made by a handful of flowers.

"I'm sorry, Dan. I'm so damn sorry." 

"Are you?" Dan murmurs. He's watching Phil carefully, and it feels like he's taking note of every twitch of Phil's jumpy muscles and the way Phil's fingers are twisting together nervously. 

"You know that I am. I hate arguing with you. I especially hate when you kick me out of the flat when I'm being a dick." He tries to say it playfully, but it comes out tremulous and strained.

Dan rests his hand on Phil's shoulder, and Phil can't help but to turn his head and lay his cheek against it. He loves Dan's big, gentle hands and the comfort they bring to him.

"Do you forgive me?"

Dan’s answer comes immediately, almost without thought. "Of course I do, Phil. But I want you to know that the video comment was a fucking low-blow," His voice wobbles and Dan stops to take in a deep breath before continuing. "That hurt."

Those three words arrow right into Phil’s heart, stealing the breath from his lungs. He swallows hard against the lump in his throat and lifts his head to look deep into Dan's eyes.

"I know," Phil whispers. He reaches out for Dan's hand, overwhelmingly grateful when Dan doesn't hesitate to reach back. "I'm sorry, Dan." 

Dan smiles softly when Phil nuzzles his face into Dan's hand. "You're like a giant kitten sometimes, Phil." He turns his hand over to cup Phil's cheek before asking softly, "Why _were_ you a dick this morning?"

"I woke up anxious and it spiraled before I could control it," Phil sighed. "Everything was loud and wrong and I just… snapped, I guess."

"Phil." Dan sounds stricken, his eyes wide with dismay.

He shakes his head firmly at Dan. "No, don't you dare try to apologize. It's not your fault, Dan."

"Would you come up here, please? I don't want to keep talking to the top of your head," Dan pleads as he tugs at Phil's hand. He waits until Phil drops onto the couch next to him and nestles closer, lifting his arm to tuck Phil under it. Dan presses a kiss to his temple and sighs. "You're such an idiot."

Phil can't help but laugh."So I've been told."

"Why didn't you tell me, Phil? I wouldn't have antagonized you like that if I had known it was a bad day," Dan says quietly. 

"You know it doesn't work like that for me. The anxiety is always there, I just try to deal with it," Phil says with a resigned shrug. "There's just a lot in my head lately."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Phil shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Phil. You can’t keep repressing this shit."

"I can't, Dan. I-I don't have the right words and I want to say it the right way and I don't…". His rambling sentence trails off and he's relieved when Dan seems to understand.

Dan hugs him closer and rubs Phil's shoulder gently. "It's alright, I'm sorry. We can talk whenever you're ready, ok?"

Phil nods gratefully and closes his eyes. He leans into Dan's side and lets the heat from Dan's body relax his tense muscles. He gives a loud yawn and smiles when Dan huffs out a laugh.

"You look exhausted, babe. Why don't you take a nap?" Dan suggests. He's scratching his nails over Phil's scalp, and it makes Phil feel like his spine is dissolving one vertebra at a time, like sugar cubes in a piping hot cup of tea.

He _is_ exhausted, as he often is on high-anxiety days, and he feels a bit fragile and clingy.

"Will you come with me? I don't want to be alone," he admits quietly. 

Dan makes a soft sound of amusement as he stands and pulls Phil to his feet. "All right, needy. Let's have a nap then."

"And Domino's later?"

"Oh, you're really milking this, aren't you?" Dan laughs. 

Phil can't help himself. "For a nap and the promise of pizza later I'll happily milk- " 

"Stop! Stop that sentence right now!"

Tired and slightly giddy, Phil laughs until his eyes water. This morning already feels like it happened a lifetime ago and when he looks at Dan's smiling face; his brown eyes warm and crinkled at the corners and that dimple on display, Phil feels like he can finally breathe again.

They tumble into bed and cuddle beneath the duvet where Dan wraps himself around Phil's body like a determined koala. Warm and cozy, it's everything that feels like home and he presses a sleepy kiss to Dan's shoulder.

"Love you."

"I love you too, Phil. Go to sleep."

"mhm. Sleep now, pizza later," Phil mumbles. 

"And milking. Don't forget the milking," Dan snickers.

"Only if I can have cookies after," Phil yawns.

He falls asleep to the sound of Dan's laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> You can like/reblog [here](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/post/187057626435/show-you-my-teeth-rating-t-words-35k) if you'd like


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